


Wine and Roses

by madame_d



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: Lambs Day 2005, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-31
Updated: 2005-05-31
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:05:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_d/pseuds/madame_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not like Justin had planned for it to happen. He hadn't thought he'd need to resist Lance, and now, it is too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wine and Roses

**Author's Note:**

> For [Lambs Day 2005](http://got-fluff.livejournal.com/).
> 
> With thanks to [jewelianna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jewelianna88/pseuds/jewelianna88) for the beta, [genee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/genee) for encouragement, and everyone who'd helped put the First Ever Lambs Day together for the enthusiasm and Yay!Lambs spirit.

It's not like Justin had planned for it to happen. But Britney is gone, and Lance is right there, and there's something incredibly intimate about licking whipped cream off a stripper's chest, their faces so close their foreheads are touching. And Lance is so gentle, after, a hand at the small of Justin's back leading him back to their car, making sure Justin gets into bed in one piece. On several occasions, Justin's too drunk to undress himself, and after Lance strips him down to his underwear and tucks him into bed, Justin thinks he feels a soft kiss on his buzzed hair. He hadn't thought he'd need to resist Lance, and now, it is too late.

They hook up after one of their Britney-exorcising outings, and when Justin wakes up the following morning, Lance is already awake and watching him. Lance says, "I won't be your rebound. If you want it to stay a one-night thing, fine with me. If you want a repeat performance, come back after you've fucked Britney out of your system."

Justin doesn't have to think twice. He avoids Lance as much as he can, considering they're on tour, and attempts several discreet hook-ups with girls, because guys, particularly for rebound purposes, are just not worth it, not when Lance is waiting for him on the other end.

When he realises that he is thinking of Lance even when he's having sex with some really fine young ladies, he quits the exercise in futility, sends Dre out to buy a bottle of champagne and a bouquet of flowers, and shows up with both at Lance's hotel door.

Lance takes the flowers, sniffing them cautiously. "Aw, Justin, so thoughtful," he says before throwing them over the shoulder. Justin watches them land on the desk by the wall and thinks of complaining, but then remembers what's in it for him if he doesn't. A moment later, when he's flat on his back on the cool hotel sheets, and Lance is lapping champagne off his stomach, he's really glad he stayed quiet.

Lance runs his tongue over Justin's hipbone, then slides it along the crease between his groin and thigh. He slurps a bit at Justin's inner thigh, then nibbles his way back up and across Justin's tightening belly to the other side.

"Don't think," lick-lick-slurp, "that I don't appreciate the flowers," nibble-nibble, "I do. But I'm not a chick. Champagne was fine enough." With that, he licks Justin's cock from root to tip and swallows him down, and Justin doesn't give a flying fuck what Lance just said as long as he keeps doing just that. He digs his fingers in Lance’s hair, still stiff and sticky with leftover gel, and concentrates on not passing out.

Some time later, while Justin's still limp and boneless from his orgasm, Lance rolls him over onto his stomach, kissing his way down Justin's spine. And this is new, not unexpected but slightly scary, because the first time around, it was just blowjobs on Lance's part and handjobs on Justin's, and this, this feels like the start of something serious and meaningful.

Justin shifts and Lance draws back so that Justin could flip onto his back again. He holds Lance's face still between his palms for soft kisses, sucking on Lance's lower lip and biting, just a bit, and going back to sweet, tender kisses that he'd learnt from Britney. She hadn't been the first, but she was the one who'd counted, and they had both taught each other a lot, learning as they went along.

Lance frowns, and Justin tries to tone down the kisses, tone down the want and desperation and need, so he arches into Lance, rocks his hips against Lance's with a fluid roll that would make Wade proud, though he's definitely not yet ready for round two. Lance, however, hadn't gotten off yet and he gasps, almost in pain, when Justin's thigh grazes his balls.

Lance reaches under the pillow for lube, and Justin steels himself mentally for what's coming. When Lance slides two slick fingers inside, Justin can't help a pained gasp and Lance's fingers still. He strokes Justin's side with his free hand, kisses Justin's jaw, nibbles on his ear. He kisses Justin's shoulder and says, "Okay?"

Justin thinks that now is the worst moment ever to be flashing back to his first time with Britney, and asking her the same thing, making sure she was all right. Except that Justin had known to ask and Lance might not know and be confused if Justin's not into it. Lance should know, because they live on top of each other as is, but Lance isn't the kind of guy to wonder about his bandmate's sex life unless he's told, point blank.

Justin takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, willing his body to relax and go boneless again. He captures Lance's face in his hands and kisses him, lips barely touching, and says, "I haven't... you're the um... I haven't, before."

Lance's eyes widen for a moment before he drops his head on Justin's chest. "And you couldn't have told me this _before_ your aggressive seduction tactic?"

"I'm sorry," Justin says shakily, laughing as he rubs Lance's back in long smooth strokes. And then they're both laughing, Lance's fingers still inside, and Lance's hand jerks and suddenly, there are sparks and fireworks and Justin inhales sharply because whoa.

He moans and Lance grins, sharp canines shining brightly in the gloom of the room, "Okay, then!"

By the time he slowly slides in, Justin is writhing against him, so turned on he's afraid he'll come before Lance is all the way in. He contains himself but just barely. Three four thrusts and he's scrabbling madly at Lance's back, digging his heel, probably very painfully, into Lance's flank as he grunts and comes, seemingly forever. The only reason he doesn't feel mortified by his lack of stamina is the fact that Lance follows him soon after, almost silently, fingers tightening around Justin's until both their knuckles turn white with pressure.

In the morning, Justin wakes up and realises that Lance is rubbing his flank with his thumb. Seeing that Justin is awake, Lance splays his hand over Justin's hip, fingertips almost tickling as they skate along the skin of Justin's ass.

"So..." Lance says, looking almost at Justin's face, but not quite. Before he can add anything, Justin interrupts him with, "I want to date you."

"Justin! What would our fans think?" Lance exclaims but he's smiling, so that settles that. Lance drags him into the shower, and Justin goes down on his knees because that's twice that he'd had sex with Lance, and he hadn't blown him yet, though he really wants to.

Lance tries to stop him, saying something about them having to leave soon, and not having time for this, but Justin thinks he'll always have time for this with Lance. He ignores everything but the rapidly filling cock in front of his face, and leans forward. Lance is big and thick, which Justin already knows, thanks to his ass's acquaintance with it, but he's still surprised at how fully it fills his mouth, making him gag. Lance is running his hands over Justin's head, fingers unable to find purchase on the buzzed scalp. He lowers one hand to massage Justin's neck.

Justin starts calming down at his touch, relaxing his throat, taking Lance in further. He presses Lance's hips firmly into the tiles because he can't risk him thrusting, not the first time, but Lance doesn't seem to need restraint; he's holding himself rigidly, panting and grunting. When Lance comes, it seems to take both of them by surprise, Lance choking on a moan, and Justin not having the time to prepare and falling back on his heels, Lance's come landing on his chest. It's immediately washed off by the cascade of falling water.

When he's done, Justin puts his arms around Lance's waist and his head on Lance's stomach, holding him through the aftershocks that leave Lance trembling slightly. Justin feels like he should apologise for not swallowing, because it's not like Lance tastes bad -- he doesn't, and Justin's willing to bet that Lance is the kind of person to actually be concerned with the taste of his come, and do something to improve it. He just wasn't ready.

He kisses Lance's stomach, getting a mouthful of water in the process, and licks his lips. When Justin stands up, Lance loops an arm around his neck and kisses him, running his tongue over Justin's teeth and exploring his mouth, as if seeking out his own taste. He wraps his free hand around Justin's erection, which Justin had almost forgotten about, and grunts in his ear, "C'mon, man, come for me." Justin does.

They attempt getting dressed, but it takes a long time if only because Lance keeps licking at the freckles on Justin's shoulders, and Justin can't seem to let go of Lance's ass. Justin grabs Lance around the waist, cupping his now, regretfully boxer-clad ass, and says, "I know it might be a little early for this but I don't want you dating or sleeping with anyone else."

Lance doesn't say anything, just cocks an eyebrow and stares, and Justin feels the tips of his ears blushing, but he stubbornly plods ahead. "You uh... you told me that you won't be my rebound. And that was your condition and it was fine. I don't... Even if this doesn't work out, I don't want you training a backup, or whatever. Okay?"

Lance says, "You want us to be exclusive? Starting now? You want us to go steady? Will you give me your ring?" But he's laughing when he says it, so Justin feels a little knot of nerves in the pit of his stomach loosening. He pulls Lance closer and hugs him, whispering, "Thanks man," into his neck. Then he kisses the spot, and works his way up and across to Lance's mouth, and by the time someone bangs on the door bellowing that they need to leave now, they're still undressed but making out on the bed. Justin just might be getting addicted to Lance's taste.

They break apart, and Lance gets up to pull on his pants and shoes. Smirking, he winks at Justin and says, "Come with me to our bus." Justin can't refuse the invitation even if he wanted to.

***

Valentine's Day arrives less than four weeks after Lance and Justin start dating. The day before, Lance looks at Justin, crooking an eyebrow, and says, "Timberlake, if you give me flowers... or chocolate... or a heart-shaped anything, I will break up with you *and* tell all the tabloids about it."

Justin, who'd been considering giving Lance breakfast in bed with heart-shaped pancakes on a tray decorated with a single red rose, blushes slightly but replies in kind, "Give me something useful, like a book or an organizer, and I won't ever speak to you again."

Chris watches them for a moment then says, wiping a fake tear, "You guys are so sweet!"

They aren't always. They both like fast and rough sex, the kind that leaves them both pleasantly achy the next day. Lance's idea of sweet nothings is to tell Justin how fuckable, sexy, and incredibly flexible he is, which Justin wouldn't consider a turn-on, but it's _Lance_ so he does.

Justin just tends to moan a lot and bite his lip because otherwise, he'd be tempted to say things like, "You're beautiful" and "Been wanting this for so long," and "I can't believe you're here."

***

Valentine's Day comes and Justin wakes up to a chocolate kiss wrapped in red foil on his pillow but no Lance. The candy is sweet, chocolate melting on his tongue, and it's definitely a nice way to wake up but it's a poor substitute for Lance. Justin sits up in bed, wondering if pouting will get him what he wants, when arms slide over his shoulders, and a warm body leans against his back. Justin reaches back, stroking Lance's bare hip.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Lance murmurs, kissing below his ear, and Justin tilts his head, stretching his neck. Lance gets the hint, nibbles lightly on corded muscle, then bites at the junction of neck and shoulder. Justin moans and turns around. Lance tastes like minty toothpaste, and it blends with the chocolatey after-taste in Justin's mouth, making everything taste like mint fudge. Justin can't get enough of it; each time Lance attempts to move his mouth to Justin's neck or chest, Justin gives him a moment to catch his breath and pulls him back up, leaning in to get another taste of Lance's lips and tongue.

"Like this, okay, just like this," Justin mutters against Lance's lips, and Lance manages to snag the supplies from the nightstand without removing his mouth off Justin's. They kiss through the prep, Lance's tongue mimicking the movement of his fingers, and then he's sliding inside and Justin tears his mouth away to breathe through the minute discomfort.

They kiss and kiss, their clasped hands on either side of Justin's head, and when Justin comes, Lance swallows his moan. A couple more thrusts, and Lance comes as well, his breath hitching, his fingers tightening on Justin's. Justin doesn't let Lance roll off immediately, so they just lie there, sticky and sated, kissing lazily. Justin's mouth feels swollen; it probably is swollen to twice its size and he and Lance will be teased for having fish lips for the rest of the day, but it's worth it.

Finally, Lance makes a face, scrunching his nose at the sound of their bodies separating, and Justin kisses the wrinkles at the bridge of his nose. Lance showers first, because Justin is too content to just lie there, basking in the afterglow. When Lance emerges from the bathroom, scrubbed clean and glowing, a cloud of steam following him out, Justin carefully gets up and makes his way to the shower.

When they're both clean and dressed, Lance reaches into the bottom drawer of the dresser, and takes out a large box, wrapped in shiny red paper, with a red bow on top. Justin takes his lead and gets his own present for Lance, a box wrapped in heart-decorated paper. Lance quirks an eyebrow over the hearts, then cracks up when he discovers that all the hearts have smiley faces and some of them have horns.

"You go first," Justin says, as they sit down on the bed, and Lance carefully pulls at the tape holding the wrapping paper together, revealing a white cardboard box underneath. Justin watches him remove the lid and freeze. When Lance finally looks up, his eyes look watery, like he's been moved to tears but is too much of a man to cry.

Lance sets the box aside on the bed, and tackles Justin. "Thank you, thank you, it's wonderful," he says between kisses, and Justin laughs, and kisses back, and squeezes Lance tightly. Lance wiggles and Justin has to let go. They sit up, adjusting their mussed up clothing, and Justin reaches for his present. He digs into it like a kid at Christmas, the bow flying one way, shreds of paper the other. Inside his box is a rare edition of Nike sneakers he'd wanted, plus several games that are supposed to be released in the next few months. Lance's contacts must've gotten him advance copies.

"So you can practice before Chris gets his hands on them, and beat his ass during your marathons," Lance says with a smile, and it's Justin's turn to tackle him to the bed. Lance looks comfortable lying there with Justin on top of him, so Justin props himself up on his elbows and asks tentatively, "So, you really liked your gift?"

Lance reaches up, running his palm over Justin's stubbly head, then cupping Justin's cheek. "Yeah. Really lots. Thank you."

When Justin was trying to figure out what to give Lance, he talked to Joey who said that there's some Russian cosmonaut that Lance admired a lot. Joey couldn't remember the name but Justin researched a bit and found it out. In the end, he managed to get quite an interesting collection for Lance: a couple of books on his idol Yuri Gagarin, a book on space exploration in Russian, and an anthology of works by Russian classics, poetry and short stories, with the right-hand pages in Russian, while the facing left-hand pages have English translations.

"Breakfast?" Justin asks, dropping his head to Lance's chest so that Lance would stroke his neck.

"Yeah."

When they get up, Justin pets his new sneakers with one finger, he's so happy about his gift, then takes Lance's hand and they go to JC's room, where breakfast is. Dre is guarding the door, pushes it open when they approach, and they enter and stop short. They can't see JC anywhere, but Joey's pressed someone up against the wall and kissing them passionately. Justin is confused because it's unlikely that Joey would bring a one-night-stand to breakfast, and it's not Kelly, because she and Joey had called it quits yet again a few months ago.

Joey tilts his head the other way, and Lance and Justin exchange an amused look and bolt.

"Room service?" Lance suggests once they're back inside their own room.

Lance calls in their order, and sits down by the table.

Justin says, "Man, I saw tongue." At Lance's little snort, he says, "Yo, walking in on your bandmates kissing is slightly different from walking in on them with groupies, you know?"

Lance says, "At least now, you can tell JC that you know where his mouth's been, like he does to you all the time." Justin laughs. He loves the places his tongue gets to be.

***

Lance had warned Justin against treating him like a girl, because he's not a princess but Justin can't help himself; old habits die hard.

Trained by Britney, he thinks romance is covering the bed in rose petals, blood-red and white, because Lance is not a girl and wouldn't appreciate pink. Of course, when Lance sees the petals, he sweeps the comforter covered with rose bits off the bed, throws Justin on top of the sheets and fucks him senseless. Then, while Justin is still working on recovering his ability to speak, Lance growls softly in his ear and says, "If you ever do that again, I will kill you and send your body back to Britney. I'm not a girl, and rose petals tend to stick to places I'd rather they didn't." Justin, too pliant and satisfied by great sex, can only nod.

Lance's idea of romance is to give Justin a Palm Pilot when Justin starts asking about their daily schedule each morning at breakfast, after his cereal but before Lance's second cup of coffee. Justin looks at the gadget, bewildered, because he'd only just finally figured out how to change the ring tone on his cell phone, the one he's had for 6 months already, and the Palm looks a bit more complicated than his phone.

He gives the Palm to Trace, who coos over it appreciatively, stroking the metal backing and calling it his 'precious baby.' Justin creeps out of the room and goes to find Lance. After he'd successfully backed Lance into the wall, Justin sits back on his heels, Lance's cock bobbing impatiently in front of his face, and says, "I didn't ask because I care about our schedule. I just wanted you to tell me, all right? If it bothers you so much, I won't."

Lance looks down, his expression pained though probably not due to Justin's words, and strokes his hand over Justin's cheek. "Okay. Now please suck me, you fucking tease." Justin turns his face to kiss Lance's palm and then gets to the task of making Lance scream his name. Lance does.

***

When the tour is over, the reality of Lance's trip to Russia settles in like a black cloud over Justin's head. He's happy for Lance, he really is, but he doesn't want Lance to go, and not just because he's worried about the whole launch thing.

Justin doesn't want to seem needy, but it's probably impossible to miss, what with him dogging Lance's footsteps like a lost puppy and going home to Lance's house in Floribama for the two days between the tour and Lance's departure. He gets underfoot while Lance is planning, packing, and multitasking on his computer, his Palm, and the phone. Lance tries to send him home, says that Justin needs to rest before jetting off to Virginia to work with The Neptunes, but Justin doesn't want any rest if it's away from Lance; he needs to make certain that Lance at least leaves the States in one piece.

"Lance," he says, "What are you doing with your dogs when you leave? Let me take Jackson and Lexi." It's not that he wants to be dog-sitting so much as he wants to have access to some part of Lance while Lance is gone.

"My parents are taking the dogs. You'll be gone as much as me. Your mom will be taking care of your dogs; you want her to take care of mine, as well?" Justin hates it that Lance makes so much sense. When Lance isn't looking, Justin steals his t-shirt, instead. It smells like Lance, still; he'd only worn it once before dropping it on the bed to be thrown into a laundry hamper later. Now, it's Justin's until Lance realises it's gone and asks for it back, except that Justin knows that Lance won't.

The night before Lance's departure, Justin wanders around Lance's house like an inmate on death row to be executed the next morning. He's pathetic and he doesn't care. Lance is on the couch in the living room, watching TV and taking last minute notes and making some list for his parents. When Justin passes by the couch for the fourth time, Lance snaps out an arm and snags Justin by the wrist.

"J, come sit with me." Lance spreads his legs, and Justin plops his ass on the couch between Lance's thighs. Lance curves an arm around Justin's waist and drags him back, so that Justin's head is lying on Lance's chest. Lance kisses his neck, then kisses his way along Justin's jawbone to his mouth and Justin twists his head back to give Lance better access. He thinks their kisses taste of need and desperation, but it can't be - Lance is never either.

Lance pulls away and tightens his arms around Justin's chest. "Justin. I uh.. I want you to know that I don't expect you to be, like, waiting for me or anything. I'll be gone for more than a few months. If you uh... Wanted to date anyone, or something, you should feel free to do so. I know you said you want us to be exclusive, but I might be gone for 6 months or even longer."

Justin swallows. "Is this... Are you breaking up with me?" He can feel Lance's sharp inhalation against his back.

"No, I ... Yeah, I am. Let me come back and we'll see if we want to resume where we left off. Okay?"

It's not okay, it's far from okay as far as Justin's concerned, but their whole relationship has been about Justin needing far more than Lance, and maybe, he thinks, he should let go this time. Like that old saying. That maybe he should see if Lance comes back to him.

"Yeah," Justin whispers. "Okay. If you want. But when you're gone. And we're still together right now. Can we go to bed; are you done here?"

It's a good thing Lance's couch is so wide and comfortable. They never make it upstairs.

***

They talk on the phone a lot while Lance is training. Usually, Lance calls Justin's cell once he's back from training and in for the night and Justin, who's usually in studio at the time, calls him back as soon as he can take a break. Because he's the Star, he usually manages to call Lance back within thirty minutes. Their conversations revolve around Lance's training, and how Lance's Russian teacher speaks no English, only French, and that training is brutal but Lance loves every second of it.

Then, Justin learns that Freddy's there with Lance, something that Lance hadn't bothered telling Justin before he'd left.

"Justin, he's my assistant! Was I supposed to leave him behind?"

"But why do you need one? You're in training fourteen hours a day, six days a week! What could you possibly have time to do in the meantime, other than sleep?"

"That's why I need an assistant. To help me keep my company running while I'm unavailable."

It's a vicious circle of an argument, because Justin refuses to understand the need for Freddy, and Lance refuses to acknowledge that Justin has anything to be jealous about. Lance points out, time and again, that he and Freddy and Cindy, his manager, all share the rental apartment, along with a stray kitten named Orbit, and Justin, after chuckling over the kitten cuteness, scoffs and points out that if Lance and Freddy wanted to get their freak on, neither Cindy nor Orbit would stand in the way. Later, Justin thinks it strange that it doesn't occur to either of them that since they'd broken up, Justin has no right to express his jealousy and Lance has no need to defend himself.

"For fuck's sake, Timberlake, I'm in training fourteen hours a day; you really think I have the time or the strength to participate in strenuous and exerting extracurriculars?" Lance grinds out after one particularly unpleasant conversation before hanging up.

He doesn't call back. When Justin tries the number, the phone's picked up by Cindy each time, who tells him politely that Lance is unavailable. Justin saves them both the discomfort of having to say that Lance _is_ available but unwilling to talk to him by stopping his calls.

The first week of silence between them depresses Justin. Pharrell snaps at him several times because Justin can't concentrate, and with his VMAs appearance so soon he doesn't have the luxury to suck in rehearsals. Justin fills the void by talking to Chris, a lot, and spending so much time with Trace that Trace declares he needs a break and flies out to visit his mother. Justin's learning to deal, though, and manages to persuade himself that he doesn't even miss Lance all that much. When he wakes up in the morning, his head swimming from the vivid dream he'd had, the soft texture of Lance's skin still tingling on his palms, he tells himself it's the stress of launching a solo career and pretends to ignore it.

When Lance flies out to Houston, he doesn't tell Justin about it. He doesn't break radio silence, and he doesn't call Justin to say that hey, they'll be on the same continent for the first time in forever. He doesn't invite Justin to come for a visit.

Instead, Justin learns of the trip from Joey, because Joey is Lance's best friend, and because Joey's boyfriend, and not Justin, had been invited to come for a visit.

When Joey hesitantly tells Justin that Lance is in Houston, Justin has to fight the urge to yell at him. It's not Joey's fault; Joey's just the messenger and not really, at that, since it's obvious that Lance hadn't wanted Justin to know. So Justin sits on the couch, knees pulled up and his heart rabbiting in his chest, and wonders if this is it - the end.

"How long is he there for?" He asks, his heartbeat loud in his ears.

"He's leaving tomorrow morning." Joey tells him, voice heavy with regret. Justin has so many appearances to make and things to do, along with the VMA performance, that he doesn't even know where to begin cancelling things if he wanted to. He knows he doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell to see Lance. He tucks the phone between his shoulder and his ear, and clenches his fists in the hem of his t-shirt.

"J," Joey says softly, and Justin suddenly misses him so badly he could cry. "J, he loves you. He might think that what he's doing is best for you, for both of you, and he's probably wrong, but he loves you. Maybe it's just easier for him to go through all this, to get certified, if he doesn't see you, and doesn't remember all that he'd left behind. You know?"

It doesn't make sense to Justin, but it's Lance-sense, which Joey had always understood, so Justin trusts him and asks him to kiss Briahna for him. He hangs up, swallows hard, and dials Chris.

He maybe cries on the phone, a little bit, and is incredibly grateful that for once, Chris doesn't make any cracks, just makes soothing noises in Justin's ear and waits for Justin to pull himself together.

Justin says, "And it's just, I don't get it. He could've called and said he'd be here, and I would've dropped everything to come see him."

"Maybe that's why he didn't, J."

It doesn't make sense to Justin. "What? But why?"

Chris hums, maybe collecting his thoughts, and says, "Lance has this thing... a goal he'd set out for himself and he is going to reach it. Space is his thing. Just like you had decided to do the solo thing. And maybe that's why he broke up with you before leaving. Because you both need to function as complete persons to reach your separate goals. You're not half of him and he's not half of you; you're whole by yourself. Know what I mean? He doesn't want you to drop everything you've worked for just to see him for a few hours, because he needs you to get your shit done. The way he's getting his shit done."

"But... I would've gotten it done. And seen him."

"J, you'd've missed your solo debut if you'd gone to Houston. You need to stop being so co-dependent and exist on your own. If you guys get back together, your relationship will be that much stronger for it."

"Oh," Justin breathes because it's too much to digest all at once, and he's scared that it's making much more sense than he'd like.

"Now go and kick everyone's ass with that song of yours. I'll be watching. I love you, okay? And stop worrying so much."

Justin hangs up, squares his shoulders, and gets ready for his grand entrance. He feels better than he had in weeks.

That feeling doesn't last long. Backstage after the performance, Justin's morose and unhappy; the song hadn't gone the way he would've liked, not at all, and even Joey's enthusiastic praise, pride evident in his voice, fails to make him feel better. He lets Joey enfold him in a crushing hug and pretends that everything is fine. He still misses Lance like crazy, though.

***

Justin's life a whirlpool of appearances and interviews and performances. It's tougher to be on his own than being one of five but he loves it. Suddenly, he can relate so much better to Britney and Christina and their stories from the road, travelling and performing solo. He loves the pressure and the spotlight and has the time of his life.

It is early afternoon in London when Justin's phone vibrates in his pocket. He ignores it until the end of the interview, and when he finally looks at caller ID, it's Lance. Justin calls him back and he can tell, right away, that something's wrong. He tries to get right to the chase, to find out what happened, but Lance cuts him off and says, "Where are you going to be tonight?"

Justin has an interview and several appearances to make tonight. But there's something in Lance's voice that makes him say, "I'll be in my hotel room. Will you call?"

"I... uh. Yeah. Yeah, I will," Lance says and right before he hangs up, Justin hears his breath catch.

An hour later, Justin's evening is cleared, everything's cancelled or rescheduled, and he's left waiting by the phone. Justin is really bad at waiting. He goes down to the gym and works out until his muscles scream in protest. He takes a shower, and soaks in his Jacuzzi, and orders supper, and watches TV. He paces the room and sits down again, and then ponders the contents of the minibar, but he doesn't want to be drinking even beer when Lance calls.

There's a knock on Justin's door and he frowns because he'd asked not to be disturbed, and there's even a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the doorknob, and he considers not answering because what if Lance calls? In the end, he walks over and pulls open the door.

Lance looks gaunt. Sure, Justin doesn't look that well-fed himself but Lance, who looks best when solid, is only a shadow of his former self, so thin that Justin wants to chain him to the bed and feed him till there's a place to pinch on his too-thin frame.

They stare at each other silently over the threshold and then Justin opens his arms and Lance makes a tiny sound in the back of his throat and walks into them. His grip is tight and he clings as if he's never letting go. Justin kicks the door closed, tightens his arms around Lance, and carefully walks them back into the room. He kisses the top of Lance's head, hair darker than he'd remembered, and runs his hands down Lance's arms, feeling bulky muscle that hadn't been there at such an extent before.

Lance lets go and rubs his palms over his face. "Hi," he says, smiling at Justin and Justin can't help but smile back.

"What brings you to my neck of the woods?" Justin asks because he knows that if all were well, Lance wouldn't be here.

Lance rubs the back of his neck. "They kicked me out. Can we ... I don't want to talk about it tonight. I don't want to think about it right now. I... I um... I need you." He looks at his feet, embarrassed by apparent cheese of declaration, but Justin knows him better than he'd thought. He pulls Lance close and kisses him softly. Lance tastes like vodka and tears, and Justin wishes Lance had told him, so that he could've gone to Star City to pick Lance up. He knows that Lance hadn't because it had been Lance's thing, his solo thing, until the very end; until Lance had been forced to share it.

They get undressed and get into bed, Lance curling around Justin the way Justin had done to Lance numerous times in the past, except that now it's his turn to be the strong one, the one offering comfort. He rubs Lance's back, soothingly, while playing with Lance's fingers with the other hand.

"I was wrong, you know," Lance says suddenly, breaking the long silence. "I was wrong about a lot of things. I'm not sorry I didn't tell you about Houston, though. Joey told me how upset you were, but the VMAs. It was your night to shine."

Justin swallows. "I'm sorry for pitching fits about Freddy. I was jealous and I shouldn't have been; we were broken up. You had the right to do whatever."

Lance squeezes his fingers. "He was just my assistant. We didn't... we weren't... there wasn't anything... nothing happened."

Justin laughs to conceal his relief. "Well, he's a damn fool, then."

Lance kisses Justin's collarbone, "I didn't say he didn't try."

Justin whispers, "I'm glad you're here. Well, not for the circumstances, but that you are. I've missed you."

Lance tucks his face into Justin's neck and breathes out, "I love you."

At first, Justin thinks he's misheard but then Lance lifts his head and tells him, "I love you" again. Justin had wanted to hear those words for so long that now he doesn't know how to react. So he laughs, and kisses the sentiment back into Lance's skin, relearning its texture, rediscovering the feel of Lance in his arms, rolling them on the bed until Lance is sprawled over him again, kissing and giggling like teenagers they aren't any more, giddy with happiness.

Later, sticky and sated, Justin starts saying, "What are-" but Lance puts a finger to his lips, stopping the flow of words. "Tomorrow, okay? We'll deal with all that tomorrow."

Justin sucks Lance finger into his mouth and nips at the fingertip. Lance chuckles, pulls his hand away from Justin's mouth, tucking it against Justin's side. Justin falls asleep with Lance in his arms, Lance's legs entwined with his.


End file.
